


Heart (Un)seen

by TheEdgelord



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, M/M, mention of burnt (human) flesh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEdgelord/pseuds/TheEdgelord
Summary: Interactions beween the Jedi Consular Hahlen and Arcann.Chapters are not in a chronological order.





	1. Vision of a Future

**Author's Note:**

> A different vision at the end of the Jedi Consular quest on Rishi.

„If you hear voices through the Force, past or present, do not fear.“

Hahlen could deal with disembodied voices talking about things to come or about his future death. After all, there is no death, there is the force.

What threw him off, though, was that odd vision he had at the end of the Rishii ritual. It wasn’t unusual for him to have visions consisting of physical sensations. As a Miraluka he saw the world through the Force and sometimes his hands, as such his visions presented themselves accordingly.

The last vision lacked the Force wholly.

His hand felt the many cracks, edges sharpened by bloody teeth, and unforgiving. The space between them barren from any softness, instead raw from agitated hands. His fingertips felt the resistance of the surface against his skin – and himself. He ripped open the tops of his fingers on the edges, drawing blood. The pain crawled up his arm but stopped at his shoulder.

Still, his fingers continued to explore.

At one point he reached the outskirts. A hill sloped gently upwards, transitioning from the unforgiving land to a familiar softness. He could feel warmth radiating from beneath, easing beneath his skin, his bones, into his very core. Hahlen could feel a pull forward, towards the source. It felt tender, uncertain, almost questioning. He knew, he could resist, deny the unknown source. But Hahlen was curious and the closer he let himself be drawn, the more warmth, serenity, enveloped him. It made his heart jump in joy.

The moment he felt he was at the source, there was a tremble and a rumbling sound vibrated in his ears. He felt safe.

Hahlen shared in the happiness that was radiating from all around him.


	2. First Meeting

Waking up to darkness with the Force flickering in and out was disquieting. He felt the first fingers of panic digging into him at the lack of control and sight.

_Centre._

Hahlen took a deep breath.

_Focus._

He released the air slowly out of his lungs, concentrating on the feeling of his breath flowing over his chapped lips and the way his chest fell.

His view still flickered but the panic was gone before it even got a hold of him.

For now, he would have to rely on his other senses for information. His body told him, that he was still alive, despite having been on an exploding ship in the middle of Wild Space. Then that he was laying on something kind of soft, maybe a bed. He was still in his own clothes, according to the lack of new smells in his immediate vicinity. But most importantly his hands were bound, the shackles clunky and heavy, limiting his connection to the Force.

His sight was unstable because of the Force shackles.

He couldn’t see far or well and most of all not consistently. Hahlen needed to focus, centre himself, to regain his sight and to find out where he was.

The blind Jedi heard steps drawing closer. Carefully he shifted into a sitting position, his feet touched stable ground. A swishing sound told him of a deactivated force field. He must be in a prison cell.

Two sets of footsteps came closer; one stopped very soon, most likely beside the door, and the other crossed the room and came to a stop at Hahlen’s side, far from the exit. The Jedi focused on his breathing, readying himself for what was to come.

Somebody else entered his cell.

“You’ve awakened. I trust you can walk.”

The male voice sounded . . . off, mechanical but not entirely. It reminded Hahlen of a holomessage only without its echo. He tried to turn his head into the direction of the speaker but his unusual lack of sight made him unsure.

“Silence is perfectly acceptable,” the man spoke, apparently having not the patience to wait for Hahlen to gather his senses. “But it will not help you here. You are in the heart of our empire now. Come along.”

The man’s footsteps retreated and Hahlen was suddenly poked in the side, making him jump in surprise. His head swivelled around towards the offender, but he was met with silence and another poke in the side. Hahlen was about to ask what that person wanted from him, when the man by the door – guards, provided his brain – spoke up.

“Get up. Now!”

The blind man stumbled to his feet. For a moment he thought the floor was tilting but it was only the sudden loss of his Force sight that played tricks on his senses. He tried to focus to know where to set his next step but the guard closest to him pushed him sideways. Without the Force Hahlen was a mess, graceless, and coupled with the fact that he was in unknown territory, captured by an unknown enemy, he was bound to make a disgrace of himself.

He crashed into the floor, unable to protect himself with his arms. His left shoulder took the brunt of it. Carefully, he tried to pick himself up from the ground.

“What is going on?” cut the voice of the, perhaps, commanding officer through the silence.

“He fell,” one of the guards answered.

If he had eyes, he would have rolled them.

“I can see that!” came the sharp retort. “Help him up!”

Hahlen was lifted by hands under his shoulders and brought back into a standing position. One of the guards left his hand where it was and guided him forward, presumably out of his cell.

Some of the unease, which had settled in his stomach since awakening, was lifted when he heard a familiar rumbling voice.

“What empire have we entered?” Only Marr could make a simple question sound like a threat.

“The Eternal Empire. Zakuul,” answered the commanding officer.

Hahlen was pushed forward another few steps, then the guard removed his hand and left him standing in the middle of . . . wherever he was.

_Centre yourself, Hahlen._

As best as he could, he clasped his hands lightly together in front of him and went through his breathing exercises. The more he concentrated, the more lightheaded he felt and the stronger he felt the Force. Finally, he could see the environment close around him. He realized the others had been speaking and Marr was holding his elbow out for him. With an amused half smile Hahlen took hold of the offered arm. Who knew that Marr would go soft on him one day? Though, he knew that wasn’t the case. The Sith had always been a practical thinker. Right now, they had only each other’s strength to rely on in this new empire.

With careful steps he followed Marr’s lead down long corridors to a transport ship. The Darth supported him without a word when the transport took flight with them and Hahlen lost his balance.

_Focus, Hahlen, focus!_

He had never felt so powerless before.

The intercom of the ship cracked to life, announcing their arrival and addressed one of the men as ‘prince Arcann’. The commanding officer was in fact royalty.

Soon they stepped out into another long corridor lined with guards. As Hahlen’s sight swept over them he could feel their connection to the Force. He focused on expanding his field of vision but could see absolutely nothing behind the corridor walls. The prince chose this moment to speak.

“We’ve recovered the records from your ship’s computers. Or what was left of them.” Hahlen didn’t need the Force to hear the smug undertone. “Fascinating reading. You Jedi are quite influential; to think that you alone could alter the tide of a war of that scale. Impressive!”

His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm and maybe even a bit condescending. The prince must think himself above them all, just because he annihilated a tiny fleet with a whole armada. Hahlen had dealt with enough people and their egos that could fill whole galaxies. Until now only two things worked with them; either cater to their ridiculous self-representation or ignore them completely. Right now, Hahlen was not in the mood nor could he divert his focus to an arrogant prince who wanted to play games, therefore he opted to ignore him. After all, Darth Marr would not give the prince enough space to flaunt his ego around, of that Hahlen was sure.

“I hope you will find your voice soon.” Gone was the smugness and replaced by annoyance. “You will need it.”

Marr flexed the muscles of his arm for a moment and Hahlen heard the new pair of footsteps closing in. He squeezed the Sith’s arm; he may be blind but not deaf.

“Prince Arcann,” the arrival said.

The prince greeted him: “Heskel. Still waiting for the catastrophe you and your scions foretold?”

And just like that the arrogance and smugness returned. They were arguing for a short moment, the prince threatening Heskal, but it tested Marr’s patience considerably.

“Is this why you brought us? To hear you bicker with soothsayers?” Marr cut sharply through their argument.

It was easy to hear the prince’s resentment at being interrupted. “Come along,” he hissed.

Marr tensed. “You’re taking us to your master.”

So close to the Sith, Hahlen could feel the Force vibrating in his voice. This was not what Hahlen would have used the Force for, especially not with Force shackles that limited their connection and made reaching out with the Force immensely difficult.

“I’m taking you to my father Valkorion. The Immortal Emperor of Zakuul.”

“An emperor. Just what we were searching for.”

“You will not find what you wanted here”, prince Arcann stated.

Hahlen expanded his sight again, having gathered enough strength, to catch at least a glimpse of this so called prince. The man was just turning away from them, being only a few meters away from the Jedi. He could see that part of his face was obscured by something, maybe a breathing mask or artificial jaw casing. His left arm was entirely mechanical. The prince was bald.

Hahlen let his sight retract and followed their captor on Marr’s arm.

“Where are we?” he asked the Sith.

“Above a planet’s atmosphere. There are too many windows” the Darth provided disdainfully.

That explained why he couldn’t see past the walls.

“I’m glad, you found your tongue in time,” the prince drawled.

They remained silent the rest of the way, even in the grand elevator which brought them high up. Hahlen could feel everybody around him tensing up and the higher they got, the more he could feel it too.

A dark presence.

Soon enough they stepped out into a great room, as far as Hahlen could tell. They walked upon a bridge or catwalk, with a lot of empty space beneath them, toward a centre. Toward that dark presence which was eerily familiar. And past another, much wilder presence.

They stopped and the prince began to announce the Immortal Emperor in a, for Hahlen’s taste, unnecessarily embellished, short speech.

“Welcome,” rumbled the dark presence.

Hahlen knew who this was, as did Marr.

“A new name, a new face . . . these are not enough to hide from us.”

The blind man swallowed. “The Sith Emperor,” he confirmed more to himself than anybody else. “Your presence is unmistakable.”

“Oh,” said Vitiate amused, “I think a mistake has been made . . . but by whom?”

“Your constant silence across our history . . . this was your distraction?” Marr hissed.

“This was my focus. Everything else . . . a means to an end,” Vitiate clarified.

Hahlen heard the rustling of clothing somewhere in front of him.

“You claim to have come all this way to find me. Here I am. What do you want?”

“You know exactly why we’re here!” Marr spat out.

The Sith Emperor chuckled. “You say you know me; if that is true, then you know the depths of my power. Whatever you hoped to achieve here, you know, deep inside, that you cannot succeed. But you do not have to stand against me. Instead . . . you can kneel.”

There was a wave of Force and a clicking sound. Under his fingers he could feel the Force rushing into Marr. Vitiate had released him from his shackles. A tremble went through Marr and he ripped his arm free of Hahlen’s hold to storm a few steps forward.

“I will never again kneel to you!” Darth Marr yelled.

Carefully, the Jedi made his way sideways, closer to the guards and away from the Sith.

“You would sooner die than acknowledge my superiority?”

“It is you who fears death, ‘Valkorion’. I do not. I will _not_ kneel,” Marr lashed out.

With that the Force lit up around Marr. Hahlen expanded his sight again, ready to assist in any way possible. The guards blocked his path with their lightsaber staffs but he could see, and hope, Marr would find a way to release him from his own shackles. The Darth was fully enraged now and without a care for his enemies. He ripped the weapon away from one man, just to impale another and Force pushed the guards around Hahlen off the platform. The Jedi could feel the Sith reaching out to him through the Force and readied himself to join his unlikely ally in battle.

He could also feel something dark and sharp amassing behind Marr.

Hahlen opened his mouth to warn the man but it was too late. The Force flared bright, racing towards Marr and accompanied by the crackling sound of lightning, leaving a trail of void behind. The Darth was thrown backwards, slamming hard to the ground. The room was filled the sizzling of cooked flesh.

Like a blown out candle, the life force of Marr vanished into the Force.

Hahlen shuddered as he felt his passing. Even though they had been on opposite sides, they had come to some sort of understanding during their hunt for Revan. The Jedi felt saddened by the sudden loss of his life. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had respected the man for his willingness to form a temporal alliance to ensure the safety of the galaxy or if the healer in him just hated to see his unnecessary death.

The voice of a woman cut through the following silence: “Clear the room! Everyone out!”

He saw her standing over Marr’s body. That wild, twisting presence he had felt while entering was hers. The guards and the woman left him alone with Vitiate and prince Arcann, taking Marr’s body with them. Taking a deep breath he turned towards the emperor and the prince. Time to face his own end.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

He walked closer, wanting to face Vitiate at least head on. Now he also could see more of the place he was in; a kind of dome, with a throne on a high dais in the centre. The Sith Emperor was standing on top and the prince – his son – stood guard on Hahlen’s level to the right of the Jedi.

Hahlen held his head high, waiting for what was to come for him.

Vitiate chuckled amused. “There we are, at last. The blind healer . . . In all my centuries, you alone have merited my full attention. You leave your mark upon the galaxy wherever you act, just as I do. Look around you,” he droned, while pacing in front of the throne, “Zakuul is poised to become the greatest civilization in the history of the galaxy. I have forged this empire to surmount all of my previous works. To span eternity.”

The Sith Emperor slowly took the steps down leading to the throne. His intonation smug and self-assured. Hahlen could see where the prince had gotten that from.

“The Eternal Throne commands a fleet more vast than any ever built. It has the power to reshape the galaxy into any image I choose.” The emperor stopped in front of Hahlen. “That _we_ choose.”

The prince shifted.

“I will share all of this with you . . . if you will only kneel.”

Vitiate held out his hand. Prince Arcann shifted again. Hahlen couldn’t believe this.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

“Do you seriously think, I would ally myself with a _monster_ which sucked a whole planet dry of life?” Hahlen grit through his teeth. “You must be joking!”

The Sith Emperor stepped back. “So be it.”

He held up a hand and walked past his son, staring out of the dome. The prince gave a curt nod and stepped in front of Hahlen. Up close, the Jedi saw that the prince’s mask obscured the left side of his face from his whole mouth over his nose and eye to his ear. The man, also, wasn’t bald but had his hair very short cropped. The Zakuulan prince unsheathed his lightsaber, twirling it once before falling into a ready-to-strike position.

Hahlen concentrated on his breathing.

_There is no death, there is the force._

The prince seemed to hesitate.

“You came here to defeat him – this is your chance!” he whispered.

For a moment Hahlen was surprised before he remembered who his father was. Sith really liked to kill, even their family, if it would bring them more power.

With a controlled slash, the prince cut through the shackles without hurting Hahlen. The Jedi gasped at the suddenness of the Force broadening his view, making him see beyond the dome and beyond simple flesh. Still, there was no time to take it all in. Prince Arcann threw him his lightsaber before rushing towards his father, lifting his own weapon for a strike.

Hahlen ignited his saber, the blade humming to life. Vitiate was powerful, too powerful. He would have to give it his all, make it count. The prince continued to assault his own father but the emperor was bending the Force around him, twisting the space before him to absorb the attacks. Calmly Vitiate taunted his son, who circled him, forcing the emperor to stand with his back to Hahlen.

The prince had given the Jedi an opening, a chance to strike at the Sith Emperor while his attention was solely on his son.

The healer pulled the Force towards him, masking his presence and stepped closer to Vitiate’s back. Just then the emperor lashed out, sending a massive bold of lightning prince Arcann’s way and sweeping him off his feet. The man on the floor groaned in pain, trying to heave himself up again. The air smelt again of burnt flesh. Vitiate lifted his hand for another strike.

Hahlen drove his lightsaber through the emperor’s body.

A gasp of surprise tore itself free from Vitiate’s throat. Then Hahlen retracted his blade and took a step back, high on his own surprise and euphoria that he felled the dread Sith Emperor. The man who annihilated all life on Ziost in incorporeal form had been struck down.

The blind Jedi shuddered. This wasn’t over. He had only destroyed his vessel.

Vitiate laughed darkly. The Force around him twisting sickly, branching out, like it was searching for something. Hahlen had to fight for breath suddenly, his strength, his connection to the Force, being pulled towards Vitiate.

For a moment he was truly blind, then everything erupted in light and he was struck back. He felt something tearing into his flesh, settling into his bones, before the pain rendered him unconscious.

Vitiate’s laughter followed him into his dreams.


	3. Five Minutes

He awakened just as his chrono started to bleep.

Hahlen took a deep breath and stretched his body, careful not to jostle the man beside him. He reached out with the Force and turned off the alarm. There was no point in reaching it with his arm as other mornings had taught him. The moment he moved too much, he would be pulled back against Arcann’s chest. There was no escape from this man.

The arm in the hollow between his head and shoulder started to shift, bending at the elbow. Arcann laid his hand on Hahlen’s stomach and tried to pull him against himself even more, but there was already no space left. Instead he buried his face into the Jedi’s neck.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled in his sleep roughed voice.

“You say that every morning,” Hahlen reminded him amused.

The healer could feel the smile against his skin.

“And you indulge me every morning.”

Arcann used his nose to push away Hahlen’s shirt so he could kiss his shoulder. The Miraluka chuckled. The former emperor of Zakuul always found new, creative ways to do what he desired when he had taken off his mechanical arm for the night.

Sighing, Hahlen turned to his other side, having his hands touch Arcann’s jaw and pulling his face closer for a kiss. He liked how one corner of his lips was raw from the scars. Hahlen loved to nibble at that corner and even though Arcann always made disgruntled sounds, he knew the former prince liked it.

Arcann brought his arm up and gently pushed Hahlen’s mess of hair out of his face. Leaning forward, he nuzzled his lover’s nose for a moment, bringing a soft smile to Hahlen’s lips. Then Arcann’s own lips found their way to the beginning of one of the hollow eye sockets, planting a light kiss on the sensitive skin there, before laying his cheek on top of Hahlen’s head.

With one hand on Arcann’s chest and the other on his waist, Hahlen felt the movement of his body while he breathed. It was a comforting sensation. He traced absentmindedly one of the scars that raced down from Arcann’s shoulder to his hip. The man under his hands fully relaxed and half way back to sleep. Soon, Hahlen would have to rouse him with soft kisses and pulling back the blanket.

Hahlen felt the Eternal Alliance beginning to bustle around them outside of their room.

Not for the first time he wished they could take their time in the mornings, enjoy just being together. But there was always a new threat, a new crisis, demanding their attention. He hoped that someday they would be able to retire from this kind of life. Maybe explore the rest of the galaxy, just the two of them.

Until then, five minutes would have to do.


	4. Blind but not Blind

Hahlen thought he could still hear that awful heartbeat. It made his skin crawl every time Valkorion spoke to him. It left him with a feeling of not being alone in his bones – never mind his head – that he couldn’t shake off. Knowing that the heartbeat belonged to the former Sith Emperor, made it even worse.

As he rounded the corner to the meeting room, he could already hear his friends discussing Vaylin’s possible whereabouts. Arcann’s voice made him frown for a moment, before he remembered that the man was there on his behest. With Senya still unconscious, Arcann was their best source of information regarding the dark empress. Though everyone still distrusted, and especially hated, their former enemy, they accepted Arcann’s presence in their midst with minimal protesting. He wasn’t sure of what that spoke.

Short of reaching their holo terminal, he heard Khalei calling out to him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, healer boy,” he drawled.

The Sith had always been eerily perceptive.

The gathered members of his inner circle, how they dubbed themselves, and Arcann turned their attentions towards him. Lana pressed her lips into a thin line at seeing his pale complexion, something he couldn’t control through his Jedi training.

“Commander,” Arcann greeted him with a short bow, before falling back into his tense pose with his hands clasped tightly together on his back.

The scarred man avoided to look at Hahlen’s face since their meeting at Vaylin’s party. The Jedi wasn’t sure if it was because of the blindfold that hid his empty eye sockets or because of their violent history. Nevertheless, Hahlen tried to be as nice and welcoming as possible, acknowledging his greeting with a nod.

“Don’t hold us in suspense. What did the shit bag say?” Khalei asked with a grin that showed the whites of his teeth.

Hahlen gave a deep sigh. “Vaylin is going to Nathema.”

Arcann jolted in surprise beside him. “I never thought to hear the name of that accursed world again.”

Theron knit his brow in thought and let his hands hover over the terminal input, ready to scan the net for any information.

“You’ve been there?” he asked the dethroned emperor.

“Once,” Arcann admitted in a far away voice. “It’s where Valkorion locked my sister away when she was a child. It’s in the Chorlian Sector.”

Theron’s fingers flew over the keys. “Hang on.”

With a mischievous grin Khalei lifted his hand.

“Khal,” warned Nehdani from the other side of the terminal.

Pouting the Zabrak let his hand fall back to his side. Theron chuckled.

“Thank you for letting me work in peace.”

“Peace is a lie, Theron,” Khalei mused. “There is only –”

“No!” came from Nehdani and Lana at the same time.

The former SIS agent groaned, which made Khalei laugh. The spy knew the Sith Code, he knew what would have come next. Through sheer willpower, and Arcann’s input, Theron was able to determine the location of Nathema and ignore Darth Imperius’ delighted giggles. The star chart of the Chorlian Sector illuminated the room above the terminal. A tiny light pinged continuously where Nathema should be.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn now,” Khalei stated.

He folded his arms over his chest and rested his weight on one foot. That he leaned against Theron’s shoulder in this way was just a lucky coincidence. The Republic man accepted his lot in life with an eye roll.

“During my exciting adventures across the galaxies” There was a groan from Lana. “I stumbled over this juicy information.” Khalei let his eyes slowly sweep over the assembled people, relishing in the suspense. “Emperor Full-of-himself performed a ritual there, closely resembling that on Ziost. But it left the planet void of any life including the Force. One of Dani’s old crewmembers had even been there and well . . . You’re not going anywhere, Commander.”

“Why?” Hahlen asked surprised.

“He couldn’t feel the Force on the planet, like not at all, zero, which means no sight for you. So you’re staying behind and let us handle it for once.” Khalei gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m sure our prince boy here can confirm everything I said.”

Arcann didn’t react to his new nickname but bowed his head to the Sith.

“It’s true. The closer my ship drew to the planet, the lesser I could feel the Force. It’s worse on the surface, like walking through a haze that suffocates you.”

“How can anyone survive on that planet?” Lana asked.

Nobody seemed to know the answer.

Hahlen violently shuddered as the first heartbeat resonated all around him. The Force seemed to dim while a presence manifested brightly beside him.

“Your people are scared for you,” said Valkorion.

“Someone’s being talkative today,” Hahlen grumbled.

The dead emperor ignored the Jedi’s comment, pacing around his frozen friends.

“You are beyond mortal constrictions now, your power ever growing. Nathema will not pose a problem for you, not with my help.”

They regarded each other over the terminal. Hahlen refused to talk to that monster more than he had to. He was tired of his mind games and overt manipulation. Hahlen would let him talk, knowing the dead man would sooner or later leave him alone again. Valkorion’s mouth curled into a sharp smile and he continued his round.

“Stopping Vaylin is your duty alone. Do you think your people can withstand her strength? No, she will crush them like insects.”

Valkorion stopped in front of his son, frozen in time. He regarded him like a predator would regard a stripped carcass.

“You always do surprise me. What do you think you’re doing, recruiting my foolish son instead of killing him? He will only betray you given the chance.” Valkorion looked at Hahlen from the corner of his eyes before huffing, “You brought a snake into your midst. Remember my words when he strikes.”

Time took its course again and Valkorion vanished, leaving Hahlen shivering behind. He could still feel his presence as if he was still there in his incorporeal form. Shadows seemed to encroach at the corner of his sight. There was static in his ears that got louder by the second.

“I think it’s best if I go.” Nehdani’s voice cut through the noise in Hahlen’s ears.

Swallowing whatever was stuck in his throat, Hahlen crossed his arms over his chest to hinder himself from hugging his own body. The shaking somewhat stopped but now and then small tremors would race down his spine. He felt so exhausted.

“What? Why?” Khalei looked very indignant. “As the expert on dangerous Sith paraphernalia I would be the logical choice.”

Theron snorted.

“It’s without question that Theron and I go onto this mission. Therefore, I think it would be best to take a Jedi with us for balance,” Lana reasoned.

“Nonsense! It would be more fun with me! Besides, you only agree with Dani-darling because you’re hoping for some romantic smooches on a desolate planet,” argued Khalei.

Lana’s voice took on a high pitch. “That’s not true! I’m fully professional unlike you!”

“It pains me to say this, but he has a point,” Theron interjected. “If we take someone with us for ‘balance’, why not Arcann? He’s been there before.”

“No!”

Everyone looked at Arcann, surprised by his sudden outburst. The man clearly felt at unease from the attention, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Nathema is a tainted world,” he said sharply. “If I go there, I’ll fall back into my old ways.”

He took a few steps back as if removing himself from any further discussion. Arcann’s eyes were fixed upon the terminal.

“Everything I have accomplished since being healed on Voss will be undone,” he nearly whispered.

Hahlen caught the wary glances his friends threw Arcann’s way. A few shuffled their feet but stayed ultimately silent.

“Dani, you accompany Theron and Lana. Come back in one piece, all of you.”

“Of course, Commander” Nehdani nodded.

His inner circle took this as permission to leave the room. Arcann hesitated before bowing to Hahlen.

“A moment, Arcann.”

The former emperor immediately tensed at Hahlen’s words. He straightened back up and waited for the other to speak.

Hahlen was used to see, and talk, to people without turning into their direction. But his time as Barsen’thor had taught him that certain etiquettes were helpful in getting things across. So even though he felt uncomfortable facing his former enemy, let alone have him standing at his side, he turned towards Arcann.

“You know yourself best, so I won’t force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Arcann’s voice had a subdued quality. “I will watch over Senya in case she wakes.”

Hahlen could feel Arcann’s restlessness. He himself wanted to leave the company of the other man more than anything. Hahlen had to remind himself that they were allies now, that it had been _his_ decision to spare the man who nearly killed him, and then accept him into his alliance. At some point they had to bury their past. Now that Hahlen had been ordered by his friends to stay behind it was a good time than any.

“There’s also . . . We haven’t really had the chance to talk yet, have we?”

Hahlen cringed inwardly at how awkward he sounded.

“No, I suppose not.”

Arcann’s eyes seemed to have fixed a point at Hahlen’s shoulder.

“If you’re alright with it, we could go to . . .”

Hahlen wanted to say ‘the cantina’ but that place was always bustling. It didn’t feel right to suggest his quarters or even Arcann’s own. Come to think of it, he didn’t know where they had put up Arcann. Did he even have a room of his own? He wasn’t sleeping in some maintenance area, right? Hahlen was the commander of this alliance, he should know these things!

“Would you-“ Arcann cleared his throat. “Would you like to accompany me to my mother?”

That seemed like the most neutral ground there was on the whole planet.

Hahlen nodded. “Go ahead. I will see those three off first.”

Arcann bowed one last time before leaving the commander of the alliance alone in the room, his steps marginally quicker than usual.

 

Hahlen entered the med bay with in an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t help but think he would never see his friends again, that he has sent them to their deaths. Hahlen knew he should have more faith in them. After all, all of them have proven their strength and endurance countless times. He’ll just have to hope the conversation with Arcann would distract him enough to not ponder on it any longer.

Senya was laying at the far end of the med bay in an area that Khalei had dubbed the please-be-quiet-I’m-trying-to-sleep-zone. Arcann was sitting on the very edge of her bed; apparently trying to not disturb his mother’s well needed rest. For a moment, he looked at Senya with a pained and nearly tearful expression before wiping any emotions from his face and looking toward Hahlen.

Arcann made to stand but the Miraluka gestured for him to remain seated. Hahlen himself sat down opposite of Arcann on an unoccupied bed.

Again an awkward silence stretched between them.

“I haven’t-“

Arcann stopped himself abruptly. He clasped his hands together tightly, his elbows resting on his thighs. He virtually radiated his discomfort.

“I haven’t really thanked you for taking care of my mother.” Arcann looked up at him. “It must have been difficult to believe in her words after I . . . fled from Voss and then later when I crashed Vaylin’s party. And still . . .” His eyes wandered back to the sleeping form of his mother. “You haven’t punished her for my sins. Beyond that you have shown me mercy I do not deserve. I will never be able to repay your kindness.”

Hahlen was stunned into silence as Arcann dropped down on his knee before him. He pressed his right hand over his heart and bowed his head.

“I can never redeem myself for what I’ve done but I will serve you, and the alliance, in any way you see fit. My life is yours, Commander.”

Hahlen was reminded of their meeting at Vaylin’s party. There he had kneeled too and offered himself up for Hahlen to judge. Even then he hadn’t liked how submissive and subdued Arcann was in front of him. Like he expected Hahlen to lash out, strike him down or even Senya if he didn’t submit to the Alliance Commander.

“Arcann –,” Hahlen started.

“I know, people won’t ever trust me fully – you won’t. But I swear I will dedicate my whole life to atone for the atrocities I have committed.”

Hahlen cringed at his words.

“Could you stop kneeling?”

Arcann looked up at him in surprise.

“I really don’t like it when people do that. It feels . . . odd, you know?”

The former emperor shot him a confused look. “I . . . Of course.”

Arcann looked behind him, visibly debating if he should sit on his mother’s bed again. Deciding against it, he simply sat cross-legged on the floor with his back pressed against the medical bed.

“I wouldn’t have welcomed you into the Alliance, if I didn’t think you deserved a second chance. And I took care of Senya because she is very dear to me.”

Senya’s son looked up at him with a vulnerable expression before he got a hold of himself again and hid his emotions deep inside. Hahlen hated it that Arcann hid himself behind a wall. He knew it must be difficult to open up to the people he had attempted to kill. Still, Hahlen didn’t like it one bit. And he especially disliked how Arcann consistently represented himself as Hahlen’s subordinate. Hahlen was aware that as the Alliance Commander he was at the top of the command chain. Yet, he tried to treat everyone as his equal and Arcann was no exception.

With a sigh he glided down the edge of the bed and took a seat on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

“We both know that trust takes time but I’m sure you will find some people willing to try. We all just need to get to know the new Arcann.”

The scarred man looked down on his hands in his lap, quiet.

Hahlen tried to think of something, anything, to break the growing silence again. Maybe he should ask him something personal? Get to know him as he himself had said? He wanted to know more about Arcann’s twin brother Thexan, but he remembered what Senya had told him about his death and decided against it.

“Senya seems to love singing,” Hahlen carefully ventured.

Arcann looked towards him, his expression neutral.

“Was she like this too when you were young?”

Arcann blinked at him in confusion and Hahlen cursed himself for his inaptitude to hold a normal conversation. He had been diplomat for goodness sake! Why was this so difficult? But then he thought back on his time as Barsen’thor, as diplomat, and how well that went. He can’t believe the Jedi Council had thought him the best choice for that.

“She . . .” Arcann looked back down at his hands. “She used to sing us to sleep. Or when I was sick.” A small smile tugged on his lips.

“She didn’t sing for your siblings when they were ill?”

The smile vanished. “No. I was the only one who ever got sick. I was not as strong as them.”

Hahlen furrowed his brow. Strength had nothing to do with that. But he could see how Valkorion could have twisted that, made Arcann believe he was weak. Even now, having finally found the courage and strength to stand against his father, his mood still visibly soured at every mention of his past.

“Can I ask you something?” Arcann asked suddenly.

“Of course,” Hahlen said, pleasantly surprised that the man took initiative for once.

“Does –“ Arcann stopped abruptly.

For a moment he seemed lost in thought, playing with the fabric of his trousers.

“How does it work? Your sight, I mean.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, if it’s uncomfortable.”

“No –“

“I hope I didn’t step over some line.”

Hahlen chuckled. “It’s fine.”

Arcann looked as if he didn’t quite believe him.

“You didn’t think to look that up?” asked Hahlen.

“No, I had . . . other things on my mind at the time.”

“Right.” Hahlen sighed. “Well, as a Miraluka I use the Force to see.”

Arcann looked at him expectantly for some time until Hahlen realized that his explanation wasn’t much to go on.

“Uhm . . . We, uh, are born without eyes . . .” He rubbed at his cheek. “Maybe I should start at the beginning. We Miraluka lived on Alpheridies which circles a red dwarf star. Because the only light was in the infrared spectrum we stopped using our eyes and relied more and more on the Force. Eventually our children stopped developing eyes.” Hahlen picked at his blindfold. “We wear such things more as cultural thing but also because some people tend to freak out when they see us without.”

“How does it look like?”

“My face?”

“No,” Arcann shook his head, “your sight.”

“Well, I don’t see colours or light and shadows.” Hahlen scrunched up his face in thought. “Imagine a black surface and you draw the outlines of a room or a person with white chalk. Kind of like that?”

“You don’t see colours but you know what black and white looks like?”

Hahlen wasn’t sure but he thought Arcann sounded somewhat amused.

“Complete darkness is black, right?”

Arcann nodded.

“Then brightness must be white, correct?”

That earned him chuckle from the other man that was shortly stopped. Hahlen smiled at him.

“Can you read?” Arcann asked hesitantly.

“With some focus, yes. Though I prefer the text-to-speech function, it’s easier and less tiring. If I concentrate enough I can make out details of my environment, see through walls and how the Force flows through everything.”

Arcann looked at him thoughtful. “You asked that Sith where you were back at the Spire. How far can you see?”

“Mmh . . . Distant planets and moons that are visible to the eye are difficult. And Force shackles do impede my ability.

Arcann stiffened. “Right . . .” He looked to the side. “But you can’t see the stars?”

“No. I mean I have seen holo images of it but never really with my own . . . sight.”

Both of them fell into silence again, though this time it wasn’t as uncomfortable as before.

Hahlen was glad that they could talk more than just a few sentences with each other, even if it felt awkward to do so. Maybe someday they could really trust each other and forget what happened between them.

He took a closer look at the other man, noting how different he was without the mask. Arcann was still scowling most of the time but he didn’t look angry anymore. The left side of his face was covered in scars and he seemed to have difficulties opening his left eye fully. Still, he looked good like this, gentler, even with the jagged scars. The only thing bothering Hahlen was how Arcann continued to avoid “eye contact”.

“Why are you not looking at me when we talk?” Hahlen asked.

The former emperor flinched, yet he dragged his eyes to Hahlen, focusing on some point that was not his face.

“I can count the times you really looked at me since joining on one hand.”

Hahlen waited for Arcann to speak but the man remained silent. The expression on his face changed minutely but revealed ultimately nothing about his feelings.

“Is it the blindfold? It does weird some out, I know.”

“That’s . . . not it.”

“Is it generally how I look?”

Hahlen wasn’t sure if he had brushed his hair this morning. With the Force he could technically look at himself or his reflection in mirrors but he never saw the point in that. It was easier to blame his appearance on the lack of eyes.

“No, of course not,” murmured Arcann.

“Will you tell me the reason?”

Silence.

And Hahlen had been so optimistic just moments ago.

Icy fingers dragged down Hahlen’s spine and he felt as if something was crushing him. The Force all around him seemed to waver forcefully. He felt like choking.

He could distantly hear Arcann calling out in alarm.

Hahlen’s heartbeat drowned out everything else. He panicked for a moment before focusing on his breathing.

What had happened? What had caused such a disturbance in the Force?

The faces of his friends flashed in his mind and jumped to his feet. Hahlen took a few steps away from the med beds, uncertain what to do, before he remembered his wrist communicator. He opened a channel to Khalei.

“Khal?”

He nearly didn’t get the name out, his voice just barely louder than a whisper. His body was shaking but he refused to break down. His friends had to be alive! He would have felt it otherwise! Or had the disturbance overshadowed everything else?

“I felt it,” answered the Sith scholar.

“Any news?”

“I’m trying to reach Theron. Hold on.”

There were hushed words spoken behind him and at the back of his mind Hahlen recognized Senya’s voice.

The communicator crackled.

“Shit . . .”

Theron’s voice was so weak. Hahlen felt like he had eaten stones. He imagined the worst; Lana and Dani long dead and Theron on his last breath.

“Theron! What happened?” Khalei nearly yelled.

“’m good. The planet’s just . . . taking a toll on my head.”

“What about Lana and Dani?” Hahlen’s voice cracked at the end.

“’m calling them . . .”

“Commander.”

There was a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Hahlen turned to Senya who didn’t let go of him. She tried to give him and encouraging smile but couldn’t do more than slightly lift the corners of her mouth. Her expression was too dark for someone who just woke up. Arcann was at his mother’s side, concern clearly on his face.

“Commander, Vaylin has –. I’m not sure what she has done, but her powers feel all consuming now.”

“She has broken free of father’s conditioning,” confirmed Arcann.

“Fucking shit!” came out of the communicator; Khalei having heard all of it.

The wrist comm. crackled again and relayed Theron’s tired voice.

“Lana ‘n’ Dani are good . . .” There was a pained groaned. “I’m . . . picking them up and . . .”

“Alright, take it easy and come back safely,” Hahlen told him.

Theron gave some unintelligible mumble before closing the channel.

Hahlen sighed deeply, the worst of the unease lifting. They were alive. Though not well, they were alive and coming back. It didn’t matter if they hadn’t been able to stop Vaylin from unleashing her full potential. All that Hahlen cared about was he didn’t lose anyone. He would gladly fight against the dark empress with all of her power, if it only meant his friends were safe.

His stomach knotted itself.

Nothing was holding Vaylin back any longer.

“Khal?”

“Already notified the medical staff, healer boy.”

“Alert the base. Vaylin is on her way here.”

“You sure?”

“She just broke free of Valkorion’s control. How do you think she’s going to celebrate this?”

Khalei gave a deep sigh. “With redecorating her room with our heads, I presume.”

While he still talked, the alarm was starting to ring throughout the base. The Sith closed the channel and shortly later, his voice was heard over the intercom of the Alliance HQ, informing everyone of the upcoming fight.

“We will stand with you, Commander,” Senya said.

“You just woke up.” Hahlen shook his head.

“Well, at least I’m well rested.”

Hahlen wasn’t feeling like laughing but he still smiled at her. He had missed her wit immensely.

“We won’t let you face my sister alone.”

Hahlen looked from Arcann back to Senya. Seeing their resolve, and knowing Senya’s stubbornness, he gave deep sigh. Hahlen nodded.

“Alright, gear up, you two.”

How odd it was to think that not so long ago, Senya had been fighting at Hahlen’s side to stop her own son. And now Senya and Arcann were lending their strength to defeat their last living family member.

Only, Hahlen wasn’t so sure, if this fight would take a similar, positive turn.


	5. The Beauty of Space

Hahlen lifted his arms above his head, stretching his body.

The meeting today had been as productive as always. They had to shuffle resources again, decide who could get more aid from the Alliance this time and which opportunities to stock up they should take. There was, of course, always a bit of arguing involved but nobody ever stormed out angrily. Hahlen wasn’t sure if that was due to his diplomatic skills or if they just worked well together. He himself preferred the last one. He didn’t want to think about how much more work he would have if everybody hated each other.

He made his way back to his quarters and let himself fall onto the couch there. Maybe he would take a short nap, gather some energy to go over reports later. After that he would, hopefully, have time for some sparring session with Dani or meditate with Khal. Hahlen wasn’t sure when the last time was he did something just for himself, let himself relax. Probably six years ago before this whole mess with Zakuul started.

His door gave a ding. Internally, Hahlen groaned. He was in no mood to deal with any visitors. The couch was just too comfy. Still, he expanded his sight and looked beyond his quarters.

Arcann was standing in front of his door, shuffling some object in his hands.

Hahlen was surprised to see the man here and alone. Normally he would be in the company of his mother or staying far away from Hahlen and his inner circle.

Sitting up, Hahlen gestured to the door, opening it with the Force.

“Come on in!” he called to Arcann.

The Zakuulan man hesitated a moment before entering.

“Commander, I’d hoped you have a moment.”

Arcann turned the metallic object in his hands around. His eyes were trying to fix a point on Hahlen’s face but constantly drew away to look at anything but Hahlen. Hahlen counted that as progress.

“Of course, something on your mind?”

Arcann swallowed thickly. “I would like to show you something, if you have time.”

Hahlen’s mouth curled into a smile. “Go on.”

The other man cleared his throat. “I have –. Maybe you should –.”

Arcann seemed unsure of how to proceed before he suddenly started to look around him, clearly searching for something. He spotted a blanket thrown over the backrest of the couch. He grabbed it and threw it onto the ground along with a few pillows.

“I think it’s best if you lay down.”

There was a short war on Arcann’s face; two emotions fighting for dominance. Doubt was the most prominent before the man had himself under control again.

Intrigued, Hahlen did as he was told. Together with Arcann he spread out the blanket. Grabbing a pillow he sat down on one side of the soft surface.

“Do I get a hint?” Hahlen asked.

“Arcann shook his head. “I want it to be a surprise.”

The Force swirled in interesting patterns through the man. Hahlen was able to spot embarrassment before stopping himself from seeing more. He tried not to read into the emotional state of others unless necessary.

Hahlen lay back down, putting the pillow under his head and folded his hands on his stomach.

The Zakuulan man put the device he had brought beside Hahlen’s head. He kneeled down and started tinkering.

“You can control how far you can see, right?” Arcann sounded very unsure.

“I can.”

“Then, could you stop seeing short of the ceiling?”

“Sure.”

Darkness greeted Hahlen as he retracted his sight as Arcann had asked. If he wanted he could still see the rest of the room but Arcann seemed to want to show him something above them.

The Zakuulan man seemed unusually nervous as he kept tinkering away at the mysterious apparatus. He was kneeling as far away from Hahlen as possible without having the object he had brought with him out of reach. Maybe one day he would be more comfortable in the presence of the Alliance Commander.

Then there was a click.

Before Halen’s sigh appeared a myriad of little orbs, differing in size. Many of them seemed to brighten or dimming in quick succession. There was also a very big circle with odd details . . .

“Oh!”

Stars.

He was seeing stars.

Arcann was projecting the night sky above him.

“This is beautiful, Arcann,” Hahlen near whispered.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Really beautiful,” Hahlen said more to himself.

This was so much different from the holo images he had seen. They were mostly recordings of a moment or an interactive map or the galaxy. Hahlen had never thought to try to look up a more representative holo image of the night sky. There had been more pressing matters on Hahlen’s mind like studying the way of the Force and later finding a cure for the Force Plague. That Arcann had remembered this and thought to rectify it was . . . sweet.

There was some shuffling beside him.

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Why don’t you stay?”

Hahlen looked up at Arcann, who was on the verge of standing up.

“Please,” Hahlen asked him.

Arcann pulled his face into a frown for a moment before lowering himself down, careful to leave as much space between them as possible.

Together they looked up at the stars.

Hahlen was still in awe from the wonder he looked upon. Why had Arcann done such a wonderful thing for him? He adored it but still, he wondered why the usually quiet man had gone out of his way to create such a marvel. Especially since they rarely talked with each other. Most of the time there was someone else with them or the topic they discussed was purely business. And his former adversary still tried to avoid his presence when possible or made himself small when Hahlen was even just close by.

Hahlen was glad that Arcann tried to put their past behind them. Or at least he thought that’s what it was all about; some kind of sign from Arcann that he was starting to look forward. Hahlen hoped he didn’t mean the display as some sort of apology for everything he had done. They already had talked about this multiple times but Arcann seemed adamant about apologising every chance he got. He really, really hoped that the Zakuulan man would stop with that now and they could become sort of friends.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Arcann asked totally perplexed.

“For this. For showing me the stars.”

The other man cleared his throat.

“You’re . . . welcome.”

Hahlen was more of a “touching person”. If it had been anyone else, he would have already reached over and taken their hand. With Arcann he wasn’t sure if that would be welcome or if Hahlen himself would be alright with holding the other man’s hand. Would it be weird? After all, some time ago they had been enemies and Arcann had tried his hardest to kill Hahlen.

Hahlen had to do _something_! His heart felt like it would burst from all those emotions he was feeling right now. He was amazed by the display up above, unsure how to properly express how touched he was, intrigued by Arcann’s unusual behaviour . . .

And he felt something tender for the other man.

Hahlen ignored his thoughts that seemed to fall over each other and simply reached over. For a short moment he was surprised to feel something other than a human hand. Then he took hold of Arcann’s metal limb.

He could feel how Arcann grew stiff, his prosthetic twitching once. It took a while until his metal fingers closed oh so carefully around Hahlen’s hand. The metal was surprisingly warm, wrapped loosely around the Miraluka’s hand.

He had been right. It _was_ weird. But in a good way.

Above them the stars twinkled and Hahlen felt calm and safe, hoping for more moments like this.


	6. Through the Darkness I Reach for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely comments! Please excuse me not answering them directly, I'm very shy and didn't know how to describe how happy they made me!

The floor was tilting under Hahlen’s feet. He tried to keep his balance while dodging falling debris. His body ached from the fight and refused to cooperate like usual. He fell to his knee but pushed himself back up immediately. His arms were outstretched to counter the tilting and shaking of the ship.

Hahlen threw a look over his shoulder as he heard a terrible crashing. The front of the bridge was covered in broken metal beams and platings. It had come down right on top of Emperor Arcann.

He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved that he hadn’t had to kill the masked emperor, that the growing instability of the ship had taken care of him. To be absolute certain, that the tyranny of Emperor Arcann had come to an end, he extended his sight, looking past the debris.

There he was, halfway buried underneath the remains of the ceiling.

He was still alive but fading.

Should Hahlen leave? The ship was about to be destroyed and with it everyone unable to escape this floating grave. Arcann’s death was sure. But maybe it wasn’t wise to leave it to chance, so to speak. A quick stab to his vitals and Arcann would be dead instantly, no more suffering, no chance of returning to hound Hahlen some more.

“Commander! Are you there?” Lana’s voice rang out of his comm.

“Is everything all right on your end?” asked Hahlen.

He could hear Lana scoffing. “We’re fine! If you can speak, does that mean you . . .?”

“I’m done here.” His voice cracked halfway through.

“Thank goodness,” Lana whispered. “Listen, Scorpio is about to destroy the ship, we have to leave immediately! I’m sorry, but we can’t wait for you, the whole hangar is coming down on us and we already waited too long for Senya. There’s another hangar close to you, get to it! Maybe you catch Senya on the way, she won’t answer my calls. Good luck!”

There was the sound of something crashing and someone cursing before the line was cut off.

The metal above him screeched.

Hahlen needed to leave! However, his feet wouldn’t move. The image of Arcann being buried under the debris, slowly dying, had been burnt into his mind. There were habits and mindsets he had been unable to leave behind when he had become the commander of this odd alliance. Hahlen couldn’t suppress the urge to help, even if it was his enemy who needed it.

With a terrible sound, part of the ceiling came down. Hahlen jumped back and watched as the exit was blocked off. Damn it, he had to get away from here! It would be easy to use the Force to clear the path, so why was he still hesitating?

Why was it so difficult to decide? It had never been this hard to choose what to do. Hahlen had always known when to offer a helping hand and when to withhold it. He had always tried to give enemies and wayward allies alike a second chance and lend them his ear if not his help.

By all accounts Hahlen should just turn away and leave Arcann to his death. After all, that man had tried to kill him, imprisoned him for 5 years during which he suffered carbonite poisoning and Valkorion manipulative words, stabbed him through the stomach, hounded him and his allies and was all in all a mass-murdering tyrant.

Still . . .

Every time they had clashed, a certain conviction had begun to manifest itself more and more in Hahlen. He remembered when Arcann seemed to be calm and in control of himself. The man being unnecessarily smug about everything and even stand-offish, yes, but at those times he seemed to be someone who you could talk to and try to negotiate. However, Arcann lost his temper every time Valkorion put himself into the game. The deceased Sith emperor had a knack for goading others. From what Hahlen could piece together what Senya, and in a way Arcann, had told him, Valkorion had been downright abusive to his own children from day one.

Today just confirmed all that.

Arcann’s behaviour had been erratic at best. He had gone from calm and confident to hysterical. His voice had cracked constantly. His lightsaber form had been severely lacking, leaving him wide open at times. And all that just from the mention of Valkorion.

Hahlen wanted to curse at himself as he whirled around and made his way to the prone form of Arcann hidden behind a pile of metallic beams.

His head and the top half of his chest were laying free while the rest of Arcann’s body was buried beneath debris. His prosthetic arm had been crushed from the impact of the fallen ceiling. It gave the occasional spark where it had been ripped off close to the shoulder.

Hahlen kneeled down beside the other man, his hand already hovering over his body. He hesitated for the shortest of moments before lightly touching Arcann.

No reaction.

Of course not. The man was unconscious. Still, the fear of Arcann suddenly striking at Hahlen out of nowhere was difficult to suppress.

Carefully, Hahlen pushed his hand under Arcann’s chest armour. The fight had drained Hahlen, he needed some physical contact to properly asses the damage. He felt Arcann’s heart weakly beating under his fingers, his chest slowly rising. Hahlen felt surreal being this close to the other man, touching him even, when all they had done before was fight.

The ship groaned and shook.

Pushing the feeling aside, Hahlen let himself sink deeper into the Force, following its flow through Arcann’s body. Arcann was severely bruised and battered, some bones were broken, others still held together. The wound on his chest was deeper, than Hahlen had initially thought. Without proper care the man would die a slow and painful death, either from his wounds or from the ship going up in flames around him. And Hahlen would die with him, if he didn’t hurry!

With the most terrifying screech, Hahlen heard debris being moved behind him. He stood up, whirled around and faced whoever had forged their path onto the bridge, with his lightsaber drawn.

Hahlen and Senya stared at each other.

Hahlen relaxed but Senya seemed just more anxious.

“Commander . . . Did you –? Is Arcann –?” Her voice continuously broke.

He could hear the tears in her voice, breaking his own heart. Senya had promised to fight alongside Hahlen to stop her own flesh and blood. She had always been very vocal about how repulsed she was at the atrocities Arcann had committed. Senya had already fought her own daughter two times. She had proven she would do anything to put an end to her children’s reign even if it would tear out her own heart. And it did. You can’t erase love that simply.

Hahlen clipped his saber to his belt again and beckoned Senya forward.

“He’s alive. I lift and you pull him out.”

Senya looked stricken at his words as she ran up the stairs. When she laid her eyes on her own son, she let out a sob and hurried to his motionless form. With a curt nod Senya signalled for Hahlen to start. The Jedi physically trembled from exhaustion as he lifted the debris on Arcann with the Force. Senya quickly pulled Arcann away and as she propped him up against a metal beam, Hahlen let go of the debris, breathing hard.

Senya carefully cradled Arcann’s exposed cheek, her voice cracking. “I never wanted it to come to this. I wanted to save you.”

Now Hahlen felt really bad for hurting the man, even though Hahlen had just defended himself.

“First you leave us and now you’re helping those outsiders kill us. You have fallen low, mother.”

Both Hahlen and Senya whirled around hands over their lightsabers to face Vaylin. Hahlen stepped closer to his friend, ready to fight alongside her and, well, shield Arcann’s unconscious body from his sister.

“Vaylin, please. We don’t have to fight! You can leave all of this behind you, if you come with me.” Senya swallowed thickly. “What happened to Thexan . . . Arcann . . . I should have stayed,” she cried.

Vaylin scoffed. “You were weak – still are. You think just because you cry a bit, everything will be forgiven and forgotten?”

“Please, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me most –.”

“You left me! You left me to those monsters on Nathema! Just because I wasn’t what you wanted! Because I didn’t behave like you wanted!”

“Vaylin, please –!”

“Enough! I’ll never be what you want! And I don’t want to!”

Vaylin took off in a sprint towards them. Hahlen ignited his saber. As he chanced a look to Senya, he saw her frozen to the spot, her face a mask of pain. He put himself between her and her daughter, hoping he was strong enough for this fight. Vaylin jumped and fuelled it with the Force to attack him from above.

Hahlen felt the Force rushing past him, throwing Vaylin back to the entrance.

He felt dread crawling down his neck and back and jumped to the side, starring at Arcann in surprise. The man was trying and failing to get to his feet. His flailing pulled Senya out of her shocked state and she rushed to help him up.

“Why?” screeched Vaylin from the other side of the bridge. “Why are you helping them? They’re taking everything from us, from you! The Outlander is right there, we can kill him together!”

Arcann was leaning heavily against his mother, wincing when her grip around his waist grew too strong for his battered body to handle. He swayed in her hold. Hahlen caught the look Arcann threw him, both watching the other warily.

The emperor of Zakuul looked tired and defeated. There was no rage or even anger burning in his eyes. He was breathing hard, his flesh arm twitching uselessly beside him, before he curled it around his middle. His eyes drifted away from Hahlen.

Hahlen took a deep breath and relaxed his stance. He turned off his saber but kept it in his hand in case Vaylin tried to attack again. Or Arcann changed his mind.

“Weak! You are weak!” Vaylin cried.

“Vaylin, please, come with me. There’s hope for you, for both of you.”

The young woman snarled. “Hope for what? You just want to change me! Again!”

A violent tremor went through Arcann’s flagship. It made them stumble, while the room was torn apart around them in the most terrifying screech Hahlen had ever heard. It hurt his ears and head.

“Vaylin!”

Hahlen looked to the spot where the young woman had been standing just seconds ago, but there was only debris now. He extended his sight and saw her outside of the bridge, turning and running away.

“She’s fine, Senya! But we have to leave now!” he called.

“Yes. Alright . . .” Senya rambled.

Hahlen rushed down the stairs, hoping Senya would hurry after him. The blocked entrance was no problem for him, though it took him longer than he wanted to. It exhausted him to the point that he swayed from the strain. But there was no time for him to catch his breath. The ship could explode any moment now.

Under Senya’s guidance he made his way to a nearby hangar, bracing himself against the walls at times. From behind him he could hear Senya mumbling encouraging words to her son, who gave a pained groan from time to time and a hacking cough. Hahlen’s mind was reminding him that Arcann needed medical attention, but so did he himself.

Hahlen had never been a great fighter. His teachers had called his combat skills “sufficient”. Even training with Nehdani, who was an extraordinary fighter and had been praised as such, had barely made a difference. If he was being honest, he had only won against Arcann, because the man had not been himself, wasn’t versed in the Force like Hahlen and because Hahlen had worn him down by drawing the fight out. While Hahlen had been able to heal his wounds during their battle and shield himself against the worst, Arcann had endured every scratch and Force push.

“There! That shuttle!” Senya called.

Hahlen’s hand flailed uselessly before he finally caught the mechanism through the Force and opened the door and jump started the shuttle. He probably made a pitiful sight as he climbed into spacecraft.

He turned around to help Senya up and came face to face with Arcann. Hahlen froze, suddenly unsure of what to do.

“Commander, can you help me?”

Hahlen swallowed thickly before reaching for Arcann’s flesh arm. The other man flinched but was unable to pull away. After some insistent pulling and pushing, the defeated emperor got the hint and crawled on board with their help. Hahlen threw Arcann’s arm around his shoulder and brought them to their feet, calling for Senya to fly them out.

Being so close to him, to this man who tried to kill him, was making his skin crawl. His limbs refused to obey his command – like a wild animal caught in floodlights he was standing completely still. Hahlen pulled himself together forcefully, making himself flinch, and took wobbling steps to a seat which looked like a simple throne. He deposited Arcann on it, trying to be gentle. At least the man wasn’t in any danger to fall from this seat, though he leaned very heavily on the armrest.

Hahlen had to brace himself against the backrest as the ship lurched into the air. Up close, Arcann’s hacking coughs sounded even worse.

“Commander! Where are you?” Lana screamed at him through his comm.

Both he and Arcann flinched at that. Hahlen took a look around, then stumbled towards a cabinet.

“I’m fine, Lana. No need to panic.”

“No need to –!” Her voice took on a high pitch. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Hahlen winced. He pulled out a first aid kit out of the cabinet and dumped it on Arcann’s lap. The injured man flinched again, his head lolling.

“Of all the stupid things –!”

“What Lana is trying to say, is that you’re in big trouble when you come back but we are happy none the less that you are safe and sound,” Theron interjected.

Lana grumbled something unintelligibly. “Any way, where are you?”

“On a shuttle with Senya.”

At that point Senya was linking herself into the channel and answered questions about her fight with Vaylin. Hahlen closed his connection and focused on Arcann before him. The man had difficulties breathing.

“Do you need that mask? To breath, I mean.”

Arcann didn’t answer.

Hahlen frowned. He reached for the edges of Arcann’s mask and finally got a reaction from the man. He had to push the hand of the fallen emperor away, the other man trying to hinder him at his endeavour.

“My patience has limits,” hissed Hahlen. “Do you need the bloody thing now or not?”

It took him a moment to realize that the lolling was supposed to be a shake of the head. Taking a deep breath he carefully removed the mask.

The way the mask was designed and how Arcann vocally disliked being touched, Hahlen had expected some gruesome wound. He had imagined some disfigurement with half the nose missing or even a chunk of his face. However, all that Hahlen greeted under that mask was scar tissue and an all in all normal face. Hahlen stored that image in the back of his mind to look at when this was all over.

It seemed removing that thing did help, Arcann’s laboured breaths already coming easier, though he coughed up some blood. Arcann tried to focus on Hahlen, looking at him warily and a bit angry when he succeeded. He was flinching now and then, his malfunctioning, broken prosthesis giving off sparks, hindering him from having a constant eye on Hahlen. It needed to be removed too.

Hahlen reached out with his hands and the Force, searching for clasps or something similar. Arcann gave a weak attempt at leaning away from him and tried to tell him off, if Hahlen interpreted those distressed sounds correctly. But Hahlen was having none of that. Undeterred he took hold of the opening mechanisms and unlocked the hooks which kept the arm in the socket. The remains of the prosthesis gave one last, angry spark, causing Arcann to yell in pain, before falling to the ground with a hollow clank. Hahlen snatched Arcann’s hand as the man tried to curl it around his hurting shoulder, concerned the man would come in touch with some of the wires that hung bare.

Both men froze. It finally hit Hahlen what he was actually doing here, giving first aid to the man in front of him. He was patching up the tyrant who had millions killed just to because he could. And here they were with Arcann’s hand tightly clasped in Hahlen’s. His hand was rough from the training with a lightsaber and his fingers were cold.

Behind him Hahlen heard Senya telling him they would dock at the Gravestone soon. Her voice was laced with urgency, though Hahlen was too shocked to react. He was pulled out of his stupor when Arcann started coughing violently. He really needed a doctor or at least some more provisional care.

Hahlen put Arcann’s hand down onto the armrest. He quickly taped the bare wires, so they couldn’t come into contact with anything, like skin or water. He also administered some painkiller and antibiotics. Then he straightened himself and went through his breathing exercises.

He was no doctor but he understood enough to be able to heal most injuries through the Force. Right now, he was totally exhausted but he still could do something for Arcann’s breathing.

Hahlen let himself sink into his healing trance and carefully directed the Force to Arcann’s wound. He was aware of the rising distress of the injured man and tried to let some of his calm flow into him. Everything around him started to feel surreal; a clear indication of his exhaustion and a warning to stop. Still, he continued.

In his mind he could feel the bones mending, lifting their pressure on the lungs.

He thought he could hear the quiet cracking of them fusing together.

He broke them! He broke his bones!

Arcann bit the inside of his cheek but it was too late; his grunt of pain vibrated in the sandy arena leaving him with hot shame. He put some distance between him and his opponent, cradling his injured arm protectively against his stomach.

His sword arm.

Of all the things that could happen, it had to be his sword arm breaking. Arcann missed his brother at his side painfully. Thexan would have intervened, would have protected him. He gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t think like that. He couldn’t rely on his twin forever; he had to prove his own strength, his worth. Though, with his dominant hand now useless, he wasn’t so sure how to achieve that. No, that didn’t matter – wasn’t allowed to matter. He was still good with the Force. He could still win this!

The Knight on the other side was hesitating. He stared at Arcann’s arm, then looked carefully to the dais, to Valkorion, seeking guidance.

Arcann tried to school his features into something neutral, but he needn’t have bothered. The Immortal Emperor was already turning around and leaving. His father’s disapproval, no, his disappointment was palpable. If he disapproved, then that would mean he had given his son attention and that wasn’t something he did. He never cared what Arcann was doing. That he was here today, watching over this fight, was unusual. But he wasn’t here for Arcann. He was here for results and he didn’t get them. Arcann had disappointed him again; he hadn’t been strong enough to deserve his attention.

“See to it, he won’t repeat his mistake ever again,” was the last thing Arcann heard before the Knight descended upon him like a bird of prey.

Hahlen screamed, echoing Arcann’s own cry of pain and fear. He stumbled backwards, desperately wanting to get away from that memory and the lingering presence of Valkorion. He hit the backrest of the pilot seat. There was a presence suddenly beside him and he flinched hard.

“Commander! What happened? Are you alright?”

Senya. That was Senya.

Hahlen couldn’t answer, just gasping for breath. He grabbed the backseat tightly and leaned heavily on it.

Senya hesitated for a short moment before rushing to her son’s side. Her mumbled questions for his wellbeing became a wordless stream in the back of Hahlen’s mind. In a way it was very calming. Hahlen concentrated on his breathing, trying to calm his racing heart. But he couldn’t shake off this feeling of dread, of Valkorion’s presence.

What was he doing, helping his enemy? How could he believe that Arcann wouldn’t turn on him? As if that madman would truly appreciate his mercy. He had killed millions! One small act of kindness wouldn’t make a difference!

“You can’t stay here!” Hahlen croaked.

“Commander, what are y–?”

“You need to leave! Now!”

The comm. crackled to life. “Everyone, brace yourself! Big explosion incoming!” Theron yelled.

Hahlen couldn’t look at Senya. That hadn’t been his thoughts, his true feelings. He had known Valkorion was lying to him as he had said he would be leaving him for a while. Valkorion was still here, in his mind, poisoning his every thought. Hahlen wasn’t surprised. The deceased emperor had been very adamant about eradicating his son. That Hahlen was trying to keep the scarred man alive, must be making him furious. And so long Valkorion desires Arcann’s death and Arcann wants to crush every last bit of Valkorion including Hahlen, they couldn’t be on the same planet. It was better for everyone involved.

The ship shook around them.

Senya came to Hahlen’s side, slowly touching his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Senya,” Hahlen said before she could even open her mouth. “Valkorion is –!”

He bit his lip, unsure of how to tell her that he couldn’t help her and her son after all. That they couldn’t stay on Odessen and he was unable to provide refuge and support.

She squeezed his shoulder. “I understand. We will find a place to lay low. I promise you, we will fight for you when the time comes.”

Hahlen finally looked at her. Senya smiled reassuringly at him. She put her hands on both his shoulders.

“Thank you for . . . everything.”

“Are you alright in there?” came Lana’s voice through the comm.

“Yeah, you need a minute alone?” added Vette.

Hahlen realized they were docked at the Gravestone and only a simple layer of durasteel was separating them from the rest of his allies and friends. They all thought he had killed Arcann, that the threat he posed was gone forever. The longer they remained inside the shuttle, the more the others would worry until they decided to check on them. They would find out what had truly happened on Arcann’s flagship. He wasn’t so sure if he could convince them to let Senya leave with her son if that came to pass.

There was no time for lengthy goodbyes. Hahlen surged forward and threw his arms around Senya. She returned the hug with a sad sigh. He didn’t want her to know how worried he was, that he had doubts about Arcann despite his decision to spare him. Hahlen was afraid he would see her for the last time. He wished so much that everything would go alright and she wouldn’t be killed by her child.

Hahlen didn’t want to lose her but he understood her desire to help her son.

“Come back in one piece, you hear me?”

“As you command, Commander.”

Hahlen laughed out quietly, knowing very well that Senya wore one of her wry smiles which promised some witty quip. He squeezed her one last time before letting go. Hahlen stepped in front of the shuttle door, fingers hovering over the control panel.

Arcann’s laboured breathing filled the enclosed space.

He could still finish what he had started on the flagship. Arcann was in no state to defend himself; it would be an easy kill. If he acted quickly, not even Senya would be able to stop him . . .

Hahlen gave a choked sound and hit the button with more force than necessary. As soon as there was enough space, he slipped out and closed the door behind him immediately, not wanting the others to see who was in the shuttle.

Lana rushed to meet him, looking him over for any serious injury. Hahlen tried to keep up a brave front, but today had been simply too much. He buried his face into her shoulder, clinging to her tightly as he began to cry. Lana immediately started rubbing his back.

“It’s over, Hahlen.”

He shook his head. “Make him go away. I can’t stand him any longer in my head. Please!”

“We will find a way to remove him soon, I promise. Until then we are all here for you; you’re not alone.”

Another pair of arms wrapped around him. He smelled machine oil, the ozone of blaster fire and chocolate: Vette.

“I still have my celebration chocolate. You want some?”

Hahlen laughed but it came out all wrong, mixed with his sobs. He heard the engine of the shuttle start and felt how Lana tensed up. She knew. Her unique connection to the Force was both a blessing and a curse at times. She knew who was on that shuttle. Still, she did nothing but continuing to rub Hahlen’s back. Lana trusted him.

“Uhm, what’s going on? Where is Senya going?” Vette asked.

Hahlen just held on tighter. His mind was a mess, filled with images of Arcann returning full strength and cutting everyone down. Everything burned and screams were echoing in his ears. His friends were dead or dying and the worlds of the galaxy crumbling. All that would be his fault, because he naively thought Arcann could change. Those deaths will be on Hahlen.

Then there was the image of Senya touching her son’s cheek, a glimmer of fragile hope in her eyes. He held on to that as the shuttle departed the Gravestone’s hangar.


	7. Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time and writing comments, they really make me happy! I'm glad you like what I write.

The smell of burnt flesh was pungent.

Despite this, he stood completely still with his head bowed to honour the fallen. Over the crackling of the pyres he could hear some people crying and someone was singing something bittersweet, though the words were too quiet. Senya sniffed beside him. Her heart was too broken for her to sing herself. Not after Vaylin’s death.

Arcann swallowed the lump in his throat.

He could still remember the desperation he had felt, when he had cut down Thexan. Emptiness had followed afterwards and only in the privacy of his own quarters had it fully hit him. He had broken down crying, asking for forgiveness. But nobody had answered. He had been truly alone. Even after telling Vaylin later he hadn’t received any kind of comfort, he hadn’t thought himself deserving of it but still, he had craved it. Vaylin had been quiet for a while before shrugging and telling him how Thexan had been too weak.

This time, when he had to watch the Commander deal the killing blow to his sister he had felt . . .

Relief? Pain? Anger? He wasn’t so sure, too shocked by his sister’s power. The structure around them had groaned and shook, bending to Vaylin’s will. Arcann had been unable to do anything besides watch the Commander fight against the onslaught of Vaylin’s Force power. There had been no fear for his sister, no sadness for the inevitable.

He had felt nothing.

Had he been so strongly corrupted that he wasn’t capable of caring for others? No, no, he cared for his mother. Her pain made him want to comfort her, though he wasn’t sure how.

Then why didn’t he feel anything for Vaylin? Was it because of how she had sunken more and more into madness and unleashed her anger onto others? No, that would make him a hypocrite, having been not so different himself some time ago.

When he thought of Vaylin, the first image that came to his mind was . . . Vaylin; The young, angry woman who had loved to make others suffer. Who had worn dark robes that covered her completely. Who constantly had had a sneer on her face. Who he hadn’t recognized as his sister after Nathema.

The gathered slowly started to disperse. Some walked back in groups, others alone and only a few remained watching over the dead.

Arcann looked at his mother, seeing tears gather in her eyes but Senya refused to cry fully. Instead she remained where she was and started at the fires. Arcann shuffled closer to her, hoping his presence would help her. She gave him the ghost of a smile before looking back at the pyres.

He wasn’t sure what happened to Vaylin’s body. He hadn’t seen it among the others on the pyres. After everything that happened, Arcann couldn’t resent the Alliance for not wanting to cremate her with their own fallen. However, the bodies of the Zakuulan Knights who had died here on Odessen had been sent back for their relatives to take care of. Maybe his sister’s body had been among them? Arcann didn’t want to think that an Alliance member could have dumped her somewhere for the animals to feast upon. He couldn’t ask the Commander, not after the haunting death of the Mandalorian.

Arcann stood there beside Senya for a long time until the sun had set and the last of the grieving went back to the base. With heavy steps Senya made her way back to their new home, Arcann close beside her. They walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Arcann felt like he should have done something earlier and that it was now too late to alleviate some of Senya’s pain. He cursed himself for his inability to just reach over and . . . And what? Rub her back like she had done to her children so many, many years ago? Would she have wanted that?

She probably would have appreciated it. Arcann decided he wouldn’t leave her alone tonight. If he was already unable to provide her the proper comfort she needed, he could at least keep her company.

Someone was waiting for them on the way back.

Leaning against a tree was the Commander of the Alliance. Arcann thought back to the speech he had given earlier today. His words had been simple and to the point like always, and still, they had given him comfort and hope like the rest of the gathered. No matter what he said or did, the Commander always surprised Arcann, especially with his kindness.

Sadly, he hadn’t been able to reach Vaylin.

The Miraluka pushed himself away from the tree and held up a lantern which flickered to life. Without a word he gestured for them to follow and lead the way through the trees deeper into Odessen’s wilderness. An unpleasant feeling began to spread in Arcann’s stomach.

He wondered why the Commander would lead them away from base. Did he decide he didn’t want them here any longer? Was he bringing them to some shuttle? Or had he concluded that it was safer if they weren’t here in a different kind? Maybe he would bring them to some remote area before taking their lives, putting a complete end to Valkorion’s legacy.

He was being ridiculous. The Commander would never think like that. He was too kind for his own good. Every other person would have left him to die on his flagship or would have taken the chance to cut him down when he was at his weakest on Voss.

But not the Commander. He had shielded Arcann from Vaylin’s wrath, had ensured he would be save and had even cared for his wounds despite his own injuries. The man had had no reason to show him any kind of mercy. Still, he had and maybe this was what made the Commander a beacon of hope for so many. Just like right now, he was a light in the darkness and Arcann gladly followed.

After some time walking through the woods, he could see more light appearing in front of them. The Miraluka stopped under a tree and motioned for them to continue.

Arcann stepped out into a small, illuminated clearing. There were some devices which kept animals from wandering too close and a burning torch was stabbed into the ground. In the middle of the space was . . . a pyre.

Senya gave a sob and rushed forward. Despite her urgency she carefully stepped onto the stacked logs to bend over her dead daughter and kiss her forehead.

His mother hadn’t had much time to fully grieve immediately after Vaylin’s death. Even though the Eternal Fleet had retreated from Odessen, they had started destroying other worlds as was their initial programming. They had to rush to Zakuul to stop it. After that Senya had been worrying over the Commander. The fight against Valkorion had taken a toll on the man and he had to rest for a few days before they had been able to return to Odessen.

Now, Senya was hunched over her daughter, mumbling apologies between her broken sobs.

Arcann took a few hesitating steps towards them.

When was the last time they had been together as a family? It had been so many years. Vaylin had been still small but already full of energy. She used to run after him and Thexan, asking them to teach her how to fight. With her around they had gotten into the worst trouble but had had the most fun. Like sneaking into the kitchens and stealing desserts; they had found out that Thexan liked the bitter taste of caf, Vaylin preferred sour fruits and Arcann was the one with a sweet tooth. Or breaking into father’s vaults and marvelling at his trophies and ultimately breaking one. They had never told Valkorion who it had been, instead enduring their punishment together.

His mother and sister seemed to vanish before him. It took Arcann a moment to realize that he was crying. He rubbed his flesh arm over his eyes but the tears wouldn’t stop coming. Why was it that the memories of childhood Vaylin made him cry but not witnessing her death?

Senya turned around. “Commander, I –“

Arcann followed her line of sight only to see a lone lantern hanging from a tree. The Miraluka had left them alone. This was only for them; saying goodbye in peace. Arcann wasn’t sure how the Commander had arranged this without them knowing and probably without most of the Alliance knowing. His chest felt tight at the thought that the Commander made it possible for Arcann and his mother to mourn Vaylin despite the pain his family had caused him.

When he looked back at his mother, his first reaction was to hide his tears in shame for showing any kind of weakness. His body was already going taut simply by the idea that this admission would be swiftly punished. But Senya only gave him a sad smile and reached for him. Arcann hesitated before stepping forward and letting himself be pulled against her. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pressed a kiss wet with tears to the side of his head.

Together they stood over Vaylin’s body, mourning.

Later, when there were no more tears to spill, they lit the pyre as their last farewell to Vaylin, the little girl who had died alone on Nathema but had to continue to endure so much pain for years to come. And Arcann grieved for his little sister who he had loved dearly.


End file.
